


Appropriately Dramatic

by allofthefandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gift Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a happy day.  An anniversary, a proposal...  But then he had to go get kidnapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appropriately Dramatic

**Author's Note:**

> So, the rape doesn't actually happen, but it's pretty obvious that it was intended. So take that as you will.
> 
> This was gift fic for my friend Olive, who requested Jim and Seb 'creeping on' Lestrade and John. Of course only in fandom does 'creeping on' really mean 'drug, kidnap and attempt to rape'. But there we are. Hope you like it, Olive!

“Two years, can you believe it?” Greg Lestrade shook his head in wonderment at the man sitting across the table from him. John Watson smiled and took his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. John had really gone all out for their second anniversary, going so far as to call Mycroft for a dinner recommendation. Greg had a sneaking suspicion that Mycroft was paying too, judging by the copious amounts of superb champagne. But there was something a little off with John that had Greg on edge. He seemed nervous, not holding eye contact, and was fidgeting. He finally stood, not meeting Greg’s eyes. 

“I know this is sudden, but I’m not getting any younger.” Greg felt his throat close as he saw the small box John was turning over in his hands as he went to one knee.

“Marry me?”

Greg couldn’t speak around the lump in his chest. The rings, a matching pair, were absolutely stunning, silver with a simple gold stripe down the center. Greg slipped to his knees, wrapping his arms around John, too full of emotion to say more than one word.

“Yes.” 

~ ~ ~  
“It’s just nauseatingly cute, isn’t it, Sebby?” Jim said with a grin, putting his arm on the waiter who was serving him. “Just look at the two of them, giggling over wine and holding hands. How mundane.”

“Quite, sir. Shall I give the signal?”

“Please do.” The lights flashed once, and everyone in the restaurant began to file out. Sebastian came to stand behind John, who was looking around trying to figure out what was happening.

“I would advise you to do as I say if you don’t want any trouble.” John darted up, sheltering Greg with his body. Greg pressed himself up against John’s back, trying not to shake.

“Don’t hurt him,” John said quickly, jaw clenched. “Take me if you must but please don’t lay a finger on him.”

“Please John, no…” Greg was wrecked, devastated, that John would put himself at such risk for him. John turned, and pressed a lingering kiss to Greg’s Cheek,

“Left hand pocket,” he whispered as the sting of a sedative pressed against his shoulder. Greg could only watch as John slumped down in the stranger’s arms and was dragged away.

~ ~ ~

Sally Donovan knew that look. That look of horrified despair that only accompanied the most violent and hopeless crimes. And here was detective inspector Greg Lestrade wearing it before the first new case of the day. He was clutching John’s jacket, still dressed for his lunch date. She stood, steering his shaking form to a chair.

“What happened?” Greg looked up, his face filled with vacant horror.

“Someone kidnapped him, drugged him and dragged him away and I couldn’t do anything or they’d hurt him. I just had to watch Sally, and he proposed to me and if they hurt him…Oh God if they hurt him….”

“Calm down, Greg. You’re getting hysterical.” Lestrade collapsed, trying to fight back tears.

“Any hints?” A manic glint got into Lestrade’s eyes.

“That’s right!” There was a rustle of fabric and Lestrade was unfolding a small piece of paper as he sat back down at his desk. He began to type madly, biting his lip in an effort to keep his focus.

“The docks! They’ve taken him to an old warehouse in Greenwich!”

“Sir?”

“The ring, Sally, the ring! It’s like he knew something was going to happen!” Sally looked at him strangely.

“There is a tracking device in your engagement rings?”

“I’ll talk with him about the implications later, Sally. Right now it will save his life.”

~ ~ ~

John woke to a dry mouth and dulled senses. His body felt leaden and when he tried to rub his eyes, he found he couldn’t move. It was about that moment that he began to remember what had happened. He pulled harder on the bonds that trapped his hands and feet, but only managed to tip the chair precariously. Taking stock of his surroundings, John couldn’t find anything worth a second glance. It seemed like he was in some sort of warehouse, but the windows were boarded shut and were no use in figuring out where he was.

“Oh Greg,” he murmured sadly. “I’m so sorry. Just…please figure it out…”

“It looks like our guest is awake.” Every muscle in John’s body went tight all at once. He knew that voice. But it couldn’t be… Moriarty was dead. Sherlock had said so. A bullet through the mouth. People don’t just walk away from that.

“I see you remember me, Johnny. How sweet.” There he was, James Moriarty, dressed in the very same suit as the pool, looking at him like he was an animal about to be slaughtered.

“No…. It’s not possible…”

“You really think I didn’t plan for it? For that last push? It was the sweetest revenge. And now I have you Johnny boy. All to myself.” It was about then that John noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

“God no…” A sharp cold nail trailed down John’s chest from his collar bone to his navel, leaving shudders in its wake. The look on Jim’s face was a mixture of smug satisfaction and full blown lust. He was taking his time, slowly mapping out every dip in John’s body. The touches held no real intent, beyond what John could dream up from the look on Jim’s face, and it could have almost been mistaking for soothing. But then that nail raked across his nipple, and John arched in equal parts shame and pleasure.

“So responsive,” Jim cooed. “I always wondered why he liked you.” John turned his head and grit his teeth. This was not happening. Jim noticed his set expression and chuckled.

“Ever the solider.”

The touches slowly became more intimate, and despite John’s efforts he felt himself begin to get aroused. Because of his bonds, he could only turn his head away, closing his eyes against what was happening. But he could still feel and hear. Feel the touches and hear Jim’s filthy murmurs. But then he pulled away. John sagged in relief, but then he heard the familiar snick of a sipper and he blanched, right as he felt a hand begin to fumble with the button on the top of his trousers.

“No! God, please no!” A gunshot snatched the rest of the words out of John’s mouth and Jim stumbled, once, twice, before falling and blanketing John with his rapidly cooling corpse. 

John didn’t know how long he sat there, covered by Jim’s bloody body, praying Greg would figure it out. But then he felt the corpse being pried off him and Greg was there, rubbing feeling back into his raw hans and murmuring into his hair. John only realized how cold he had become when the orange shock blanket was wrapped around him. Then Greg firmly tugged John against his side despite the sticky blood all over John.

“You’re still wearing your lunch suit,” John mumbled, smiling despite himself.

“Didn’t have time to change,” Greg said, sounding unusually exhausted. “I had to find you.”

“’m here...” John said into Greg’s lapel, the day’s events catching up to him. “Right here…”

~ ~ ~

Lestrade’s reaction: Unusual. Intimate. Both dressed as if for a fancy occasion. What is left of John’s suit is new. New ring on Lestrade’s hand. Matching ring on John’s.

Oh.

Sherlock tucked his gun into his waistband, mindful to lock the safety. It was an unexpected wrinkle, the engagement of the two people he loved the most, but they were happy together. That much was clear by the way they walked pressed together. Sherlock decided then that he would endeavor not to get in the way when he was able to return. 

Maybe I will return on their wedding day, Sherlock thought with a small grin as He walked out of the warehouse. Appropriately dramatic.


End file.
